


I Need You all for Me

by wheezebraks



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Underage Tag Because They're 16/17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21851641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheezebraks/pseuds/wheezebraks
Summary: His lungs burn, Eddie wipes at the tears pricking at his eyes. While he calms himself down, Richie takes another hit, longer this time and holds it while he watches Eddie. “I have an idea,” he says through the smoke.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 120





	I Need You all for Me

“I don’t know about this, Rich.”

“Dude we’ve gone over this like ten times already, you’re going to be fine.”

“Yeah, but what if —”

“Do you trust me?”

At this, Eddie closes his mouth and nods. This, he doesn’t have to think twice about. Of course he trusts Richie, always had. He’s been in Eddie’s life for, well, as long as he can fucking remember. Even when he got under Eddie’s skin, irritated the life out of him, and teased him about everything under the sun, Eddie still enjoyed his company. Longed for it, actually. You see, Eddie was a very sheltered kid, in every sense of the word. He didn’t get out much, _adventure_ wasn’t in his vocabulary. His asthma kept him from doing much and the other sicknesses that he took medications for kept him afraid of the big bad world. His mother reminded him daily of all the things that could go wrong. Richie was the exception, though.

Not only did they match each other’s energies, but Richie always made him believe that he was more than his illnesses, that he wasn’t as delicate as Sonia made him believe. If it weren’t for Richie, Eddie wouldn’t know what it was like to take on the world. When they were together, he wasn’t as afraid. And when Eddie learned that he wasn’t, in fact, allergic to everything under the sun, Richie was there to show him what adventure was.

They argued, and teased, and bickered about anything and everything. It drove their friends crazy, Stanley was always the first to tell them to shut up or roll his eyes at their antics. If the losers happen to be in the clubhouse, chances are, Richie and Eddie would be fighting over who gets the fucking hammock. The rest of the losers came to understand this fact.

But their friends were so much more than just there to _irritate_. They were their most trusted confidants. Beverly knew, at fourteen years old, that Richie was head over heels in love with his neurotic best friend. Beverly sat with his during all hours of the night when he was lovesick and didn’t know what to do about it except cry his eyes out. Beverly was always there for Richie.

For Eddie, that was Stanley. Stan knew about Eddie’s feelings for Richie almost as long as Beverly knew about Richie’s. It only took one year and four months for the rest of the losers to finally decide to take action. The longing was ridiculous.

Here they are at sixteen and seventeen years old. Officially dating. _Finally_. And it feels right. It feels like home. And, yeah, Eddie trusts Richie with whole entire fucking life. He doesn’t even laugh at Eddie for bringing along one of his old inhalers, he gave a very pointed look, but didn’t laugh ( _yeah, Rich, I still have them. Don’t fucking look at me like that, asshole, it’s like a security blanket. And I know I don’t need it but_ \- ). Richie didn’t argue it. How could he? His boyfriend was about to smoke pot with him for the first time. He’s been trying to get Eddie in on this for years. Beverly would be pissed that she wasn’t included, but that’s for another day. Maybe they could hot box the clubhouse, wouldn’t that be fun?

Eddie sits at the foot of Richie’s bed, knees pulled up to his chest and arms around them. Completely closed in on himself. Somehow, he looks even smaller like this. Richie is leaning against the headboard, legs crossed, gazing at Eddie the whole time. He’s grateful, right now, that his parents are on a business trip. It means Eddie gets to sleep over, and they get to do this. It’s like a touch of domesticity when they have times like this, when Eddie stays at Richie’s house for a few days. They sleep in the same bed, eat breakfast together, watch movies, play video games.

A joint and a lighter takes up a spot in between them. Eddie looks at it as if it’s something foreign.

“Okay. _Okay_ ! Let’s fucking do this then. It’s not gonna light itself sitting there. And the longer we don’t the more I want to back out. _Come on_.”

Richie laughs and holds his hands up in defense. Tries to stifle it as Eddie crosses his legs and set the inhaler right next to him. Eyes never leave Richie as two long fingers pick up the joint and he lights it. Eddie is enthralled by the way he brings it to his lips, the way his eyes flutter closed as he inhales. How he pulls the smoke in and holds it, only opening his eyes as he breathes out the smoke. Richie winks at Eddie and something tingles throughout his entire body.

“Just like that,” Richie tells him, holding the joint out for Eddie to take. “Not too much of it will make you cough.” And of course Richie notices the second long look of doubt that flashes in his boyfriend’s eyes because he sighs and goes, “look, you don’t have to okay? It’s not a big deal.”

Eddie shakes his head, “no, I want to. I _do_!” A shaky hand reaches out for it and he takes it between two fingers. One breath in, one out. Eyes go to the foreign thing in his grasp, and then to Richie who is looking at him like he’s the whole world. It goes to his lips and he mimics what Richie had done.

Gaze never leaves Richie’s, only when they close momentarily at the taste. The smoke wafts over his tongue and fills his lungs. He holds it for a moment, and then falls into a fit of coughs as the smoke billows from his lips. Richie scoots closer and takes the joint, telling him, “you’re fine. You’re good.” Hands cover his mouth, and eyes go watery, though he doesn’t grab for his inhaler and it stops after a moment.

His lungs burn, Eddie wipes at the tears pricking at his eyes. While he calms himself down, Richie takes another hit, longer this time and holds it while he watches Eddie. “I have an idea,” he says through the smoke. Apparently instead of telling Eddie the idea, he just goes for it. “It’ll be less intense, and you won’t cough as much. Trust me?” He asks again and Eddie nods.

Richie props himself up on his knees, bringing the joint to his lips again for another drag. This time, instead of holding and letting it out, his body leans forward, free hand going to Eddie’s chin to lift his gaze. Their lips meet and okay, _Eddie likes this part_. Lips part and he can feel the smoke waft past Richie’s lips and over his tongue again. Richie immediately deepens the kiss, and Eddie feels a daze wash over him. _Weed or just Richie_ ? Teeth bite at Eddie’s bottom lip and he pulls back. Eddie has to breath in deep and the smoke fills his lungs again. This time, he only coughs once to clear his throat. A wide smile curls onto his lips.

“Again,” he says and points to his lips. Richie beams, following direct orders immediately. Eddie suddenly finds this ordeal hot as hell. He can’t tear his gaze away from Richie as he pulls in more smoke. Eddie uses this moment to clamber closer and onto Richie’s lap. Richie holds the smoke as the resituate, his back against the headboard and Eddie’s knees on either side of Richie’s thighs.

Lips fit together the same way, immediately turning into something sloppy and needy. Richie’s tongue sliding against his own. His hands read against Eddie’s hips, holding the joint out. He can’t help but feel a new tingle at every spot their bodies touch. He feels lighter, dizzy as he gets lost in the way Richie holds him tight and kisses his harder. Eddie hums against his lips and only pulls away to breath in. Closing his eyes as the smoke hits him and he lets it out. His chest heaves slightly and he leans forward to kiss Richie again. No smoke this time, just Richie — all _Richie, Richie, Richie_. And he shudders when Richie moans.

When he pulls back again, hands wrapped around his neck, Eddie notices how Richie’s eyes are blown out. Looking as dazed as Eddie feels. _This feels new_. His mind is fuzzy and all that is on his mind is the way his boyfriend moves slightly under him. It’s a slow grind, and Eddie isn’t even sure if it was on purpose. But he groans and leans in again. Richie stops him.

“One more hit, babe.” His voice is deeper, huskier, almost pleading. Eddie nods and pointedly drags his hips down and over the hardening line of Richie’s dick. “Jesus Christ, Eds,” he says through a groan.

But he brings the joint back to his lips and pulls it in once more. Before they kiss again, Richie snubs it out in an ashtray on his bedside table and abandons it there. His eyes are back on Eddie’s and hands go back to his hips, gripping tighter, thumbs digging into his hip bones. The thought of bruises forming only riles him up more. Lips connect again, the same way they had before. Eddie doesn’t care about the feeling of the smoke anymore. He’s well aware of the way it’s affected him. He’s up on cloud nine, relishing in Richie and the way his arms slide around his waist.

What he doesn’t expect is the way Richie flips him around, their lips part just in time for Eddie to let out a high pitched yelp and then laughs as his back presses into the mattress. Richie hovers over him, hands roaming up his hips, his sides, over his chest, cups his cheeks and places a kiss to his nose, and then brackets the sides of Eddie’s face, palms flat against the mattress.

Electricity buzzes through Eddie’s entire body. Little moans escaping his lips the whole time his hands roamed. “God, Eddie,” he says, eyeing him, “ _I love you_. I love you, I love you.”

Eddie hums, his face lights up. “I love you, Rich. But like, _fuck_ , so much. I can’t explain it. Why do I love you this much?” It’s not the question he meant to ask, maybe something like : _why does it feel like this_ ? So intense.

But Richie laughs and he doesn’t care how the question sounded. “Because I’m obviously incredibly hot. Poor eyesight, scrawny as fuck, untamable curly hair. Can’t forget my sense of fashion - I know you love those Hawaiian shirts.” He grins and drags his hips down against Eddie’s, it elicits a moan from both of them. “My jokes? No ones better.”

Richie does it again, and Eddie’s follows, desperate for the touch. _Aching_. “Shut up, Richie, _oh my god_.”

He can’t help but think about how quickly this is turning into something _more_. Something _heated_. And Eddie decides that it’s gotta be the buzz, the high. Up on a cloud like this, with Richie insistently kissing him grinding his hips down against Eddie’s, it’s difficult not to think about all of him. His mind is clouded and the only thing he can see clearly is _Richie. Richie. Richie_.

They’re both worked up, chests rising and falling, breaths mingled together. Richie dips his head one more time for a quick kiss, teeth biting down on Eddie’s lower lip as he pulls back, eliciting a broken moan from the boy underneath him. He hears his name like a prayer on Eddie’s lips.

He moves again, and Eddie bucks his hips upwards to meet Richie’s. Lips move to his jaw, trails down his neck, lost in each of Eddie’s hums and moans and _Rich_ , _jesus_. He reaches his collarbone and stops there, biting down and running his tongue over the fresh bruise that’s appearing.

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed, hands tangling through the mess of curls. “I want to be mad at, mad at you —” he pulls in a harsh breath when Richie makes another spot on his collarbone, “my mom is definitely going to see that shit.”

“Oh yeah Eds — keep talking about Mrs. K, really get me going.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot.”

Richie palms at Eddie’s erection, grinning wildly at the moan it pulls from Eddie. “The insults do it for me, too babe.”

Eddie’s head pulls back against the pillow, tightening his grip on Richie's hair. “Rich, _fuck_. Oh my - oh my god.”

“I got ya, babe.”

They’ve been here before. Splayed out on Richie’s bed, both of them melting at each physical touch. Noises being pulled from both boys. But this? It’s different. Eddie doesn’t care how loud the sounds are that are torn from his mouth, he’s completely and utterly at the will of Richie. God, he trusts Richie. With every ounce of his being. He could stay here, like this, all day. Mind clouded and a haze washing over him. Everything intensified so much more, it’s almost overwhelming. _Why haven't they done this before_ ?

Richie fingers curl around the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, dropping kisses to his hip bones. Eddie wonders idly if there are bruises there yet. It thrills him, being marked up by his boyfriend. _His boyfriend_.

His hands had dropped to the sheets at some point, gripping them, and he’s a whimpering mess now.

“Eds?” Richie asks, soft. “You good?”

Eddie nods, eyes opening to find Richie’s and they’re dark, begging, needy. “Yeah Rich — good. So good.”

Richie continues, pulling his shorts and underwear down in one fluid motion, hand circling the base of Eddie’s cock, and he keens. A sob falling from his lips from just the touch.

***

They get off like this, taking care of each other until they’re both lying against Richie’s bed, gasping for air and coming down from their respective highs. Wipes rest in the middle of them, discarded ones somewhere on the floor.

Eddie rubs his hands over his face, pulling in a deep breath and releasing it. Only then does his turn his head to Richie, who’s already gazing at him.

“Jesus you’re such a creep. Were you just watching me?”

“Fuck yeah I was. You look so good like this.” Richie props himself up on his elbows, eyes trailing down his body, Eddie clothed in only one of Richie's old shirts. His eyes stop at the marks on his neck, “you’ll probably be able to hide those.” He smiles — fucking beams at them.

“You’re such an asshole,” they have a rule : only leave bites where Eddie can definitely cover them up. This rule is broken extremely often. But Eddie can’t complain. Not really, not when he knows it turns Richie on to see the purple and blue marks against his skin. “But I love you.”

Richie gasps and brings a hand to his heart. Throws his head back and pleads, “say it again!”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I love you. I love you. _I love you_.”

Richie hums and leans down to capture his lips, only to whisper against them, “I love you too, Eds.”


End file.
